


“...dogs and angels are not very far apart." - Charles Bukowski

by notjustmom



Series: Tumblr fics 2018-19 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Gift Fic, M/M, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:31:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: The last of five gift fics I wrote over two days this past weekend. A bit of a post-Mofftiss case fic, and suggestion of a date night ahead...





	“...dogs and angels are not very far apart." - Charles Bukowski

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts).



It was spring. Finally spring again. And they were still there. Together, somehow. John had quit the surgery months ago, the press was just too much for the patients and his co-workers to have to deal with, and he was done. So he was back to working on the blog, not writing new posts, just organising and reformatting, changing the theme, changing it back, deleting and adding new photos…

“Puttering,” Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

“I’m not.” John sighed and turned to look at him, standing at the window, violin at the ready, but not playing yet.

“Let’s go.” He replaced the instrument and bow back into the case and closed it with a determined click, then strode to the coat rack, grabbed his coat and headed for the door, pausing briefly to see what John would do, as he still wasn’t quite sure how things were between them.

John shrugged and switched off his laptop, then followed him down the stairs.

“Hungry?” Sherlock asked quietly as they began to walk down Baker Street side by side.

“I could eat.”

“You could always eat on a case. Never knew how you managed it.”

“I think better when I’m not starving.”

“Coffee shop?”

“Why not. Let’s sit out here, it’s nice enough. I’ll get it - your regular?”

“Please.”

John raised an eyebrow and snorted, but made no other comment as he headed inside the shop.

“Dog - over there.”

John put Sherlock’s scone and coffee in front of him and sat down with a patient, “yeah, what about it?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Tell you - oh no… nope.”

“Just -”

John studied Sherlock’s open face, took a sip of his coffee and nodded sharply, then squinted at the dog in question. “The Pomeranian?”

“Hmm.” Sherlock turned his chair and pushed it back so he called rest against the wall and stretch out his legs, then closed his eyes. “Describe it first, don’t leave anything out.”

“Right. Fur: Orange sable, nice warm colour. Face, nose a bit longer than I’m used to seeing on a Pom, bit like a fox, my nana had one, it liked me, nice animal. Her name was - Poppy. Poppy, damn. Haven’t thought about her in years - that one is about seven, maybe eight pounds heavier than it should be. Jeweled collar. Ridiculous. Dog is maybe five years old -”

“How can you tell?” Sherlock asked, a bit of a smile in his voice, though his eyes were still closed.

“Five big stones in the collar that I can see. Pink stones. Probably fake.”

“Sure?” Sherlock muttered, then took a long sip of his coffee and waited.

“Damn. Are we on a case?”

“Not yet.” John turned sharply and glanced at his friend. 

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing at all, John, you did very well. I just happen to remember a file, one of those that Greg dropped by, about a jewel thief, the only clue left behind each time was a single sable coloured hair, they first thought it was a hair from a brush, but in the photo it looked wrong to me. Too long, just didn’t look right. Seems this thief prefers pink diamonds.”

“Seriously.”

“Can you spot the owner?”

John glared at him, but shrugged and returned his focus to the park across the street. There was a woman, in her thirties, maybe early forties sitting on a bench, rocking a pram as she scrolled through her phone. Sitting on a blanket under a tree, a couple was watching their children kicking a ball, while the Pomeranian was happily chewing on one of those chewie toys. John scanned the area and returned to the woman on the bench. “Really? The woman with the pram.”

“Guessing?”

“She’s - well, the pram is for a newborn, maybe up to about six months. She’s not a mum.”

“How can you tell?”

“If she were a mum of a newborn -”

“Something caught your attention, John. What was it?”

“It’s just - something isn’t right - oh. Stupid. No diaper bag.”

“She might breastfeed.”

“Not in a dress.” John replied with a grin. “Not that kind of dress, and there’s always a diaper bag. The pram is for the dog.”

“Very good, John.” Sherlock slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapped out a few words, then dropped his phone into his pocket again. “Now… the - uhm -”

“The Miniature Schnauzer coming towards us.”

“Unlike your Pom, this one is well cared for, not overfed, and most certainly not used in any criminal activity.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Sherlock, John, nice to see you out an about on such a beautiful day, will I see you for dinner later?”

John looked up to see Angelo grinning at them, and the elderly salt and pepper, floppy eared dog sat at Sherlock’s feet, waiting to be picked up. Sherlock scratched behind the dog’s ears, then pulled him into his lap and watched him settle with a grin. “John, this is Argo, I watched him for Angelo when he was a puppy for a few months -” Sherlock laughed as Argo sat up suddenly and licked his face. “Been a while, I know. I missed you too.” John sat back into his chair and watched his friend for a moment, then looked up at Angelo. 

“We’ll be in tonight, Nine o’clock.”

“Candle?” Angelo winked at him, a question in his ever smiling eyes.

“Oh yeah, definitely a candle.” Sherlock turned and searched John’s face, and smiled down at Argo again, obviously pleased with what he saw there. “The biggest candle you can find.”


End file.
